Stay (Punk Luke Hemmings)

Chapter 15

*song for this chapter: heart out by the 1975*

Opening the door, I don’t expect to run into a hard chest, bouncing back into my room towards the ground.

Hands hastily grip my elbows, keeping me from falling onto the floor. Just as quick as they catch me, they let go.

“Luke, what are you doing outside my room?”

“We’re going to lunch today.” He says self-assuredly, the bags under his eyes giving him away.

“No, I’m going sightseeing today.” I correct him, brushing off my dress, even though I didn’t actually fall. Steeling myself, I edge past him, slamming my door shut behind me.

As expected, Luke follows me. “Andy, we need to talk.”

I sigh, slamming my finger into the elevator button with unnecessary force. “No, all the talking we did last night was a one-time thing.”

A shiver runs up my whole spine when I think back to a mere 12 hours ago when Luke clung to me like I was the only thing left in the world that made sense. My brain rejects that I told him the secret I’d kept in the darkest part of me, wearing like a bulletproof armor. Yet, he’d cracked that armor, letting in a few rays of watery gray light. It wasn’t much, but it was more than it had seen in months. And I hated it. I hated feeling vulnerable to the person who’d broken me so completely, shattered me until the millions of pieces were too scattered to really put back together. Blood, sweat, and tears had gone into making me okay again, and I wasn’t ready to fall apart when I’d only just found myself again. When I’d extracted myself from him, with damp clothes and tear mark, I had walked away from him and the little time bubble we’d been in with finality.

Luke, in his familiar stalking gait, enters the elevator with me once it arrives again, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. His shoulders are tensed, letting me trace a vein in his arm with my eyes. I can only image how much self-control he’s exerting not to lose it, whether its anger or frustration or insanity or sadness or a combination of the four, I’m not sure. “Andy.”

Silence dominates the rest of the elevator ride. A few people enter with us, solidifying the silence we’ve made. I watch Luke’s reflection in the shiny gold walls, watch him open his mouth as if he wants to say something, then watch him close it with a glance at the happy couple holding hands, a glance at the sharp dressed woman tapping her foot in agitation.

The small red number above the doors finally glows neon with a number 1, the doors opening and the crowd inside spilling out with palpable relief. I’m off, my scruffy converse tapping against the polished floors of the lobby, a stressed Luke following.

“You can’t avoid this forever.” Luke reminds me, tailing me into the bright sunshine, ignoring the doorman who nods at us as we enter the streets.

Rifling through my bag for my sunglasses, I don’t pay much attention to my surroundings as I walk, letting the natural flow of the pedestrian traffic lead me. “I’m not avoiding anything, I’m just busy with other things.”

“Like what?” Luke grabs my arm suddenly, yanking me back from walking into the street, my attention still on finding my sunglasses. “Getting yourself killed?”

“That was purely an unfortunate accident.” I mutter, finally finding the damn things and shoving them onto the bridge of my nose, brushing myself off.

“One day, Andy, one day is all I’m asking.” His tone doesn’t really make it sound like a request.

I don’t even have to see the eyes his sunnies cover to know he’s not going to give up anytime soon. He’s much too stubborn for that. Sighing, I concede. “This isn’t going to change anything. But fine. You have an hour.”